


There Wasn't Room for You and I (Only You)

by wednesdays



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Comfort No Hurt, End of the World, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, a teensy bit of fluff, i blame frank ocean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays/pseuds/wednesdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(<i>Goodbye, goodbye</i>.)</p><p> </p><p>The Earth is at its end. Scott has Stiles until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Wasn't Room for You and I (Only You)

**Author's Note:**

> there was frank ocean and then brotp and then fingers that write things against my will and then--
> 
> [bursts into tears]
> 
> I'M SORRY
> 
> title and quote and idea from frank oceans' 'strawberry swing'

_The entire Earth is fighting, all the world is at its end. Just in case an atom bomb comes falling on my lawn, I should say, and you should hear, I've loved the good times here, I've loved our good times here._

*

A bomb just exploded in the front yard.  
  
Stiles is unconscious.  
  
Scott can't breathe.  
  
He can't breathe, but he has to get past the smoke, had to get Stiles to the emergency space-aircraft, has to get him off this dying planet. He's carrying Stiles in his arms, ears bleeding, racing towards the football fields, and he can't breathe.  
  
The Earth is dying.  
  
Stiles is unconscious.  
  
Scott can breathe.  
  
He's stumbling, because Stiles is dead-weight in his arms; because he's tired and out of breath and his ears are ringing; because people are rushing around him, screaming and crying and trying to be the first on the last ship.  
  
Dust and gunpowder and residual smoke permeates the once clear air, coating it to a rusty brown that itches Scott's eyes. He recognizes a few of his neighbors racing past; a few schoolmates cutting across the few cars that are trying to get through, horns honking and curses flowing.  
  
Stiles groans in his arms. The wound on his head bleeds slowly.  
  
"Scott?" he mumbles, eyes fluttering. Scott adjusts him in his arms, sighing in relief as the old high school comes into view. "Whazzgoinon--?"  
  
"Don't worry, I got you buddy," Scott assures, but Stiles squirms in his arms, chest heaving.  
  
"P-put me down, I can walk," Scott hesitates, but sets him down, immediately putting an arm around his waist to steady him. Stiles' is trembling, but his eyes are more aware, bloodshot and sharp. "Where--"  
  
"The last few ships are at the fields," Scott explains, helping him walk through the crowded parking lot. "You need to get on--"  
  
"We," Stiles says piercingly, and Scott nods. "Okay."  
  
They shuffle, achingly slow, towards the nearest ship, Stiles getting weaker and weaker as they continue on. Scott offers to hold him again and Stiles resolutely refuses.  
  
They get through the fast-paced customs with ease, eyes checked and pockets empty.  
  
"Sir," one of the men in a uniform says to Scott, placing a gloved hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, there's not enough seats on this ship. It's gotta be you or your buddy." Scott nods in understanding. Stiles seems out of it for a moment, breathing shallowly, his head falling on Scott's shoulder.  
  
"Could I just--" the man nods. Scott thanks him.  
  
They board the ship with difficulty, sliding between people and officers as he helps Stiles get to an empty space. Stiles is out of breath and fairly pale once they get to the seat, slumping into it with a muffled groan. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, breathing in shallowly.  
  
"I'm fine," he says before Scott can say anything. Scott tries to smile. He's always been stubborn.  
  
"You're head is still bleeding." Scott kneels in front of Stiles and glances around. He sees a few familiar faces, heads ducked and covered in tears, pale and flushed and bloody. "Let me--" he trails off, taking off his flannel. He rips it into strips, carefully wrapping it around the wound. Stiles closes his eyes, sighing at Scott's touch.  
  
Scott sees a man a few seats down trying to comfort a heavily sobbing girl, whispering softly to her and kissing her forehead. It's a sad sight and Scott has a feeling he's in a similar position.  
  
"Departure in two minutes." a robotic female voice rings out above him, and Scott tries to stand up. Stiles grabs the sides of his face instead, forcing him back down. He stares into Scott's eyes with a surprisingly alert gaze, all thick lashes and familiar amber eyes.  
  
"No," his voice cracks and his blunt nails dig into Scott's skin. It almost hurts, but he knows Stiles would never -- could never -- truly hurt him. "No--"  
  
"I'm going on another ship, Stiles," Scott says softly, resting his hands on Stiles' wrists. "There's just no room on this ship, it'll be fine." Stiles' eyes are filled with tears now. "I'm just going on another ship."  
  
"Promise?" Stiles whispers, voice hopeful, and Scott nods. It's not surprising when Stiles kisses him hard on the lips, and he kisses back, of course he does. Stiles tastes like salt and dust.  
  
Scott's brought back to the day they shared their first kiss; remembers when he said it didn't count, and when Stiles agreed. He remembers the first time they had sex; remembers Stiles saying it didn't count and he remembers agreeing. He doesn't remember when it started to count.  
  
"Okay," Scott says, because the doors are starting to close. He bumps his forehead against Stiles' and walks backwards, tripping over his feet. Stiles looks small in the large metal seat, head covered in flannel and brown eyes wide. Scott forces himself to turn around.  
  
He's instantly shuffled a good hundred feet away from the ship when he exits by the officers, watching the engines start and the few remaining people scramble around. It's a strange sight, the ship lifting off the dead grass into the deader air.  
  
"There-- aren't any more ships, you know," Scott turns and sees the man from before, the one comforting the girl, standing with his arms crossed, eyes on the ship. He's got dark hair and a muscular build and sharp eyes.  
  
"I know," Scott turns back to the ship, watching it fly farther and farther away. "He wouldn't have left me go if he knew." the man makes a sound of understanding.  
  
"Your boyfriend?" Scott hums.  
  
"Best friend." he corrects. The world around them is noisy and filled with movement, but Scott feels surprisingly peaceful, standing next to this stranger. "Was that your girlfriend?"  
  
"Little sister," the man says. "She knew." Scott nods.  
  
"I'm Scott," the man turns to him, almost smiling. He's got dirt on the side of his face.  
  
"Derek." There's an explosion a little too close to them for comfort. The ship has disappeared into the sky. Scott wonders when Stiles will realize he broke his promise. "I never thought I'd live to see the world end."  
  
"I never thought I'd live to see the world end without my best friend by my side," Scott admits quietly, eyes on the sky. There's a little patch of sunny blue sky surrounded by all the brown dust.  
  
"Mind seeing it with just a friend?" Scott turns and smiles at Derek, taking the offered hand.  
  
"That'd be cool," he and Derek hold hands.  
  
They watch the world end, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~i am a horrible person but scerek!~~  
>   
> 
>    
> [tumblr](http://scottmccalliente.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> i'd love feedback!


End file.
